


Kisses

by shinybicho



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-13
Updated: 2012-05-13
Packaged: 2017-11-05 07:16:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/403793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinybicho/pseuds/shinybicho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Sherlock kissed John, John was taking a nap on the sofa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, this was supposed to be submitted to [fuckyeahjohnlockfanfic](http://fuckyeahjohnlockfanfic.tumblr.com/)'s first contest, but on the day of the final submission, I completely forgot to send it (woe is me).
> 
> All my knowledge of Sherlock and John are from the series (and movies), so if there are any out of characterizations, please feel free to inform me. Also, any kind of criticisms are greatly appreciated.
> 
> This was edited and re-edited by me. It's neither Brit- nor American-picked, so please forgive future grammatical errors.

The first time Sherlock kissed John, it was a soft kiss. There was no intense pressure or intense lust. It was a simple, small and delicate push of the lips. They weren't even _pursed_. John was awkwardly still in front of Sherlock, not even knowing where to place his hands so he kept it fallen on his sides. Sherlock had his neck slightly bent down to accommodate John's height, his eyes were closed, but his hands were just as stiff and awkward and also didn't know where to go.

 

To John, it had felt like hours, really. There was no telling what went through the head of the world's only consulting detective. The kiss was innocent, there was no tongue, no nibbles, no playful nips or licks. John couldn't help but think that it reminded him how Harry used to play with her dolls and bumps both of their lips, pretending to kiss. It was similar, but John knew that this at least had _heat_.

 

Yes, it was getting hot in the room, John started to realize. He didn't want to pull away, though—especially when he knew it would alert Sherlock. He couldn't move his head backwards either because there was something blocking it. Oh, that's right, I never told you.

 

The first time Sherlock kissed John, John was taking a nap on the sofa.

 

John forced his breathing to regulate and made it seem like he was still asleep. By now, John knew how to pretend to sleep around Sherlock. There were times when John would do so during cases because he was trying to keep an ear out until Sherlock would jump for joy and yell his name because he had found a new lead. John's back was always turned to face Sherlock and John would always smile before “getting up”.

 

He wanted to pat himself at the back, really. Who'd had thought that by regulating your breathing, you could fool the great Sherlock Holmes? It did take John a few tries, though. But anyway, that's another story for another time.

 

Right now, all John knows is that he can feel the end of Sherlock's nose touching his cheek, Sherlock's hands trapping him on the couch (one above him, gripping the edge of the couch and the other near his head) and Sherlock's lips pressed onto his. It was getting quite frustrating. John opens his eyes and slowly shifts his chin down (Sherlock froze with his eyes open, looking into John's and John knew, even through just the connection of their lips, Sherlock was panicking), reached out both of his hands to Sherlock's shoulders. John's left hand cupped the back of Sherlock's neck and his right caressed Sherlock's cheekbone, trying to soothe the detective, trying to tell him that _it's all fine_.

 

John, then, opened his mouth and caught Sherlock's upper lip in a playful nibble. John's eyes had fluttered closed, but he knew Sherlock's was still wide in surprise. There was no response and John understood that. He wasn't as unobservant as Sherlock thought he was nor was he as ignorant nor as innocent. He's seen the way Sherlock looks at him. It was a bit difficult to admit at first, but when it all came down to, John was sure he wanted to be with the detective through thick and thin, in sickness and in health and heck, they weren't even going out (yet. John is a very optimistic man) and John had already vows written.

 

But this wasn't the time for that. Sherlock's eyes had closed to the wonderful sensation of John's tongue licking his lips with John's teeth playfully nipping. Sherlock opened his mouth and darted his tongue out to meet John's and the doctor gasps. John's hands pulled Sherlock to him closer and harder, Sherlock's nose was pressed onto John's cheek and it was getting difficult to breathe. But breathing is boring and kissing John felt so much better.

 

John moaned.

 

Sherlock took this as an opportunity to pull back slightly, their lips creating a soft smacking. He leaned his forhead onto John's, lips apart now, but still hovering ever so teasingly. Sherlock opened his eyes, looking down at John. John didn't want to move and he didn't want to open his eyes. He felt comfortable, thank you. Sherlock breathed heavily, taking in what John looked like under him.

 

Sherlock was on top of John on the couch now. The doctor had amazingly moved them both in the middle of the (very sensational) kiss. The corner of Sherlock's lips twitched up. John's eyes were still closed, his breathing still ragged, his cheeks flushed, his mouth slightly open and his hands still gripping Sherlock from the neck.

 

Neither of them knew what to do after. After catching his breath, John slowly opened his eyes and looked up at Sherlock. The detective's face was just as flushed and lips were just as swollen, pink and _oh_ how John wanted to kiss him again. But he knew they couldn't. There were questions that needs to be answered now. Thoughts about Sarah, Mycroft, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson and Molly flashed through John's mind because he knew they were the people who had every right to know what just happened.

 

But we all know that Sherlock likes ignoring dull things. He didn't think these people were important. (In fact, Sherlock would admit after that he wasn't even aware of the fact that they still existed, with John underneath him and the remnants of the kiss still lingering.) No. Nothing else mattered—only John. His John.

 

John's left hand had loosened and moved its way to accompany his right hand, cupping Sherlock's face. Yes, there were tons of questions that needed to be answered now. John knew that. But Sherlock had cupped his face as well, the detective's long fingers finding its way to the back of John's head and John was pushed up, their lips touching once again.

 

The second time Sherlock kissed John, it was a heated kiss. It was filled with intense pressure and intense lust. It was a difficult, hungry, possessive touch of the lips and battle of the tongues. Neither of them cared how sloppy, awkward and painfully innocent their first kiss was because everything that happened after seemed simple.

 

And the second time Sherlock kissed John, he had somehow successfully moved them to his bedroom.


End file.
